For You
by SwayPippin
Summary: ONESHOT Making the ultimate sacrifice constitutes bravery, willingness, and the strength to do so. But it also causes confusion and heart break. How do we deal with such things?


Disclaimer: I own not the characters nor the original plot.

For You

I awoke early, even before the sun had risen. I awoke because I know what's coming. I know what is to become of me and I couldn't sleep with that knowledge. Even after I've been so careful, so cautious, the thing we've feared has indeed come to pass. I can't tell her I'm leaving, can't tell her goodbye. I can't because I know she'd ask questions. She's always been inquisitive, been too smart for her own good. But that's what I love about her. It's the hunger she has for knowledge, the thirst, the yearning to be so much more than an ordinary woman.

She's beautiful as she sleeps. For a moment or two the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest captivates me. It makes me wish I didn't have to leave, makes me want to wake her up and tell her just where I am going. I want to tell her that she's the one. I want to tell her I can't live without her and that she's amazing. I want to make up for those lost minutes we've had, want to try and make her see that I have to go. I want to kiss her soft lips and whisper in her ear. I want to tell her that I love her. I can't.

Carelessly I slip my legs into some pair of pants, I don't care enough to take notice which ones, it won't matter, not where I'm going. I don't take notice of the shirt I snatched out of the closet or the way my hair is lying. None of those dismal everyday things matter. Slipping on my shoes I sit down on the edge of the bed beside her sleeping figure. Again she captivates me, though she always has. The way her eyes move under her eyelids as she dreams, I can't help but wonder if I'm the one that's causing the slight tugging at the corners of her mouth.

I almost laughed when she mumbled in her sleep. Almost, only almost. Even though I'd love to smile, love to laugh, I know it's no use. No smile or laughter will save me from my fate. The fate she doesn't know about. The one thing I couldn't tell her. I leaned down gently so I don't disturb her as she sleeps, kiss her on the lips, and whisper words I know she didn't hear. I only linger for a moment for my own satisfaction then I stand and place the piece of parchment I held in my hand on her bedside table. She'll find it in the morning, for now I've got to go.

I don't know where I'm going, but I don't need to know. It's far too evident they've been tracking me for miles. They never were stealthy. The bitter cold nips at my face as I rub my hands together, trying out of habit to keep the feeling in them. I wish I'd brought a jacket, though I suppose it'd be better to die of exposure.

"Stupefy!" One of the figures shouted as they stepped out of the shadows.

I can feel my body stiffen, and the stinging in my face brought on by my fall to the ground. That was an unnecessary spell. I would have gone willingly. I suppose though they thought it would look better, impress more people, if they had to subdue me. What they didn't know though was I didn't even bother to take my wand from the drawer in my bedside table; I'm no threat to them. It was an unnecessary item; I already knew what was going to happen.

Even thought I can't move I still feel that sickening pull behind my naval as they appirate me back to their master. The raunchy metallic smell of old blood fills my lungs and it makes me nauseous, though I suppose it doesn't matter.

Once the spell is lifted I don't bother to look at my surroundings or the faces cloaked by darkness. I already know where I am, and who my captors are, there's no need to look. I don't even bother to get to my feet, I'm going to be on the ground again in a matter of seconds once he asks me for the information he's lacking. Why give the extra effort?

The sound of his voice is more like the hissing of a snake. "What are they planning?"

I remain silent.

He fires a curse, I didn't care to try and identify, hitting me in the back. Even though my body feels as if it's been set on fire, I fight back the urge to scream out. I'll not give him the satisfaction. After what seemed like an eternity my body stops convulsing and my insides loosen their knots, still I don't stand, there's no need

He speaks again, in that same hiss like tone, "Tell me and I will spare your life. This is my only bargain."

His bargain makes me want to laugh but I refrain. Why, I don't know. He never holds true to his word. Even if I did betray everything she's worked so hard for, everything I've worked so hard for, he'd kill not only me but he'd make me watch as he killed all of them, more importantly her.

Again the curse is sent at me. This time thought it's held for much longer. Still, I will not scream out in agony, I will not try and fight this curse. The sooner he destroys my innards, the sooner I will die with my secret, the secret I'm dying to keep.

After the curse is lifted he orders two of his henchmen to drag me to my feet. I don't fight as they snatch me up off the stinking dirt, there's no point in it. They hold me under the arms with their fingers digging into my flesh. Force that is not needed. I'm not going anywhere. Though I suppose it makes them feel superior to try and restrain me.

Their master, I will not say his name, paces in front of me scratching his milky white head with bony fingers. For a few moments I thought I heard him sigh, though it could have been a noise in my head.

In a fraction of a second his face is mere inches from mine. If he had a nose it would touch mine, instead he has snake like slits for nostrils, I suppose it's easier to breathe like that in Hell, maybe I'll find out. "Give me the information." He hisses again.

I can tell by the throbbing in my head he's trying to read my mind, he is after all, skilled in Legilimency. Luckily I am skilled enough to block him out, not keeping eye contact does have its advantages also. Frustration will soon take its toll. I know what's coming, I've come to expect such things, I've never been thick.

Again his shoots that same tiresome curse at me. The Death Eaters instantly throw me to the ground, not wanting to be effected as well. This time though he doesn't give up so easily, I suppose he thinks torture curses make people talk. Not this person. He'll never make me talk, not so long as I have my right mind, and this curse doesn't affect the mind.

Convulsing and spitting blood uncontrollably on the dirt beneath me I refuse to scream out. Biting down on my lower lip until I can taste more blood than I should be by this time, I know he's getting tired of torturing me.

With a lazy flick of his wrist the curse is lifted but the pain will not subside, not this time. That's okay; I can't feel much, not anymore, I suppose the bitter night air did serve me well. For once I'm not cursing the cold, rather welcoming it with open arms.

He loses his temper with me. "Tell me boy! Tell me or die by my hand just as your treacherous father and mother have."

He thinks I care about those two. Thinks I actually give a damn. He's wrong.

My silence awards me nothing, nothing but more pain, more torture. I'm being tortured so she can live, so she and Weasel, and The Chosen One, can live, so they can conquer, it's a fair trade.

He's bored with me, turning his back he signals to one of his many followers, one I know by name, to finish me off, either that or leave me lying here. Either way, I'm going home.

My vision becomes blurred by the pain I hadn't noticed and I can't feel my body but I know I'm alive. Still alive.

"You should have told him." The voice breaks through my thoughts with words I can't understand. The words mean nothing to me now.

Before my brain had time to comprehend what had happened to me I've realized I'm sailing through the air, and I don't know why. With a hard smack and a pinching feeling in my stomach my vision blurs more, if that was possible. I can't even see the outlines of the people around me, if that's what you'd call them, but it's okay, I don't need to see them to know they're there.

Only when I feel the constant movement of my head do I realize someone's got their hand on my face, someone I haven't the strength to look at. "Last chance," the hiss came.

I said nothing. I simply licked my bottom lip and pulled the blood back into my mouth, I'm starting to rather like the metallic taste.

"Okay, have it your way then!" That damned voice boomed in my ears. Yelling when a simple comment would have sufficed, I'm not going anywhere, there's no need to shout.

Again the voice echoed inside my skull. "You'll die here, die like the blood traitor you are. That stinging in your stomach there," the one I hadn't noticed, "it's caused by the tree behind you," the tree I must have hit when I was sailing through the air, "and you've been impaled by a broken branch," that was the pinch I felt, "you're going to bleed to death. Slowly and painfully, like a muggle. I won't give you the satisfaction of a quick death, boy." That's where he was wrong, it won't be slow, the end's not far off now, and it won't be painful, I can't feel much.

After hearing nothing more than a few loud cracks, which seemed like mere whispers to me, I assume they've gone. They've gone and left me here to die. I'm dying so she can triumph over evil, her, Weasel, and The Chose One, it's a fair trade.

It's hard to breathe and even thought my eyes are open I can only see darkness despite the fact that I know its long past dawn. Deciding it takes too much effort to blink; I simply shut my eyes and wait. The seconds tick by, they seem like seconds, and I can't move or hear or see, hell I can't even breathe. With the last of the air in my dying lungs I speak for the first time, though there's no one around to hear my words.

"Hermione…"

Suddenly, out of no where, I'm blinded by a bright white light and it hits me, I must be dead. Then there's nothing. No feeling or taste. No sound or smell. Nothing.

She's crying. I can see her even if she can not see me, I know she can't. She's found the note I left her, memorized the four words and my signature. I don't know how long I've been away but I know she knows. I didn't hear them tell her they found me, Weasel and The Chosen one. I didn't see the look on her face or hear the sound of her heart breaking, I couldn't have taken it.

She doesn't realize I had to do what I had to do, doesn't want to accept that I did the right thing. She can't find a reason that I went without my wand, without her. Every time she looks into the mirror though, the reason's right in front of her, if only she could see it.

I can't stop what I see her doing, can't make her rationalize. I can't tell her to stay put; even if I could she wouldn't hear my words. She places my note on her bedside table as she stands from the bed, along with an identical piece of parchment, one I didn't write. She leaves the two notes words facing up. I can see my untidy hand writing and I read the words, for no other reason than to pass the time, all I've got is time. 'For you, my love.' Then my signature, 'Draco Malfoy.' Then the second note catches my attention as I hear the pop of her appiration. 'For him, my love,' then her signature in that calligraphic writing, 'Hermione Granger.' She's coming home.

.Finish.


End file.
